My workaday life contains sufficient dull, repetitive, I-can-do-this-in-my-sleep-and-probably-have activity to support a whole lot of daydreaming, though this is not necessarily a Good Thing, since I have been known to venture off into areas I probably should have shunned, occasionally into areas I literally have shunned. (Several months into the brony culture, I was making a point of avoiding getting lost in fanfiction, but that was a couple of months and a couple of million words ago.)
Which suggests, I suppose, that the marginally rebellious kid I never did quite suppress still crops out from time to time and, once given the instruction “Don’t go there,” promptly goes there. When the prettiest girl in Philadelphia put this picture up on Instagram, I had to slap said kid silly, especially in view of the fact that earlier that week, the lady in question had made the following offhand maybe observation:
The good news is my mojo is working. I wish I knew the power of a miniskirt back when I was in my 20’s.
I must point out here that I’ve never seen her in a miniskirt the night we met for dinner, she was doing that Mary Richards not-too-tailored pants thing and that this is a hell of a time to act regretful.
And if you regret not owning retro-ish saddle shoes with a stacked heel, Bass, purveyor of Weejuns, will sell you some for $69 or so.